On His Terms
by Royalty09
Summary: Jackson isn't the only one driven by a need for revenge.


He'd been inclined to forget about her. Just another nameless person in a long line of victims; easily dozens, maybe he'd even reached a hundred. He couldn't remember, had stopped counting long ago.

But he couldn't forget her no matter how hard he tried. The constant news coverage that stirred up old memories wouldn't allow it. She was everywhere - on the cover of every newspaper, on his television screen at 5:00, 6:00 and 10:00. It was enough to drive any man crazy.

He remembered her well. The brief period of time when he had held her; she had belonged to him. He remembered well the way she felt, her tears; asking her to do things, _making_ her do things – he missed that.

He had stopped after her. Shortly after his thirtieth birthday, he had put an end to it. It was time to grow up and stop tempting fate. So much success, a string of crimes a mile long and not a single conviction – it couldn't go on forever and with her, he'd gone over the edge. He was brazen, he had almost gotten caught.

_Almost_, that was the key. That's what made it fun and he had always thought it a shame that he was great, so good at his crimes, yet would never be known.

All because _little Ms. Perfect_ had never gone to the police and had spoiled his last hurrah. He used to take such pleasure in reading the headlines the following morning. Sure, he had never made the front page and he changed his M.O. far too often to ever be labeled a serial, but still, the notoriety had been a thrill. She denied him that pleasure.

_Who the hell did she think she was?_ The question burned within him as he stepped from his hiding place and onto the pavement of her parking lot. Memories of their first encounter ran through his mind and how she had pleaded with him quietly not to hurt her, not to cut her. She had been so terrified of that knife; a guarantee in and of itself that he would use it.

Now here she was – twenty feet from her front door and fifty feet from him with her arms filled with grocery bags, blissfully unaware that he was coming up behind her, eager to catch up on old times.

Another parking lot, very appropriate, so many memories; he wondered if she'd remember him right away or if the knife would jog her recollections? Oh, she would have to remember him. He'd left his mark on her and tonight he would leave another. One for each side and then she would break, she would finally share her grief and then he'd be known. He had worked so hard, he was deserving of the limelight, not this Jackson Rippner with his pretty blue eyes and full lips. That man belonged on the cover of GQ or in prison –wife to an especially hairy man. He almost laughed out loud at the thought and it was a more than likely scenario should a man that pretty ever set foot inside a penitentiary. But Rippner, smart guy that he was, had become a ghost. No one had seen or heard anything from him in over a year.

Licking his lips in anticipation, he drew his pocket knife – not long, not sharp, but enough. The same blade that had torn her flesh over two years ago…

A quick glance in all directions told him there was no one around. It was dark. He could drag her away, not far, just into the bushes where they would be afforded a little privacy. He'd take his time with her and she could watch her front door the whole time, knowing that she had almost made it home. He was giddy at the thought.

Just over forty feet away and he took a deep breath, preparing to make the dash as she fumbled with her house keys.

And like a phantom, _he_ appeared out of nowhere. A flash of silver; a knife more than twice the size of his own and a pair of piercing blue eyes – the two of them collided and were propelled backward, landing in the shrubs, disappearing from sight.

"Is someone there?" he heard Lisa ask the darkness but at that point, the large blade had already torn into his neck leaving a fatal gash. A hand clamped over his mouth, but it was unnecessary. All he could do at this point was wheeze and halfheartedly raise his knife to the man that had just squashed his dreams of fame while simultaneously stealing his life. His killer looked at the knife and shook his head, prying it easily from his rapidly weakening grasp.

Jackson Rippner, he knew the face. Like Lisa's, it had been plastered everywhere. He wore a mask of hatred and disgust and occasionally, he would look over his shoulder to make sure Lisa came no closer. She didn't, life experience had taught her better than to go crashing into the woods searching for the cause of mysterious noises. Seconds later he heard her heels clicking across the pavement at a harried pace and then the front door slammed.

Rippner had watched her the whole time. Now that she was inside and safe he rose to his feet, pleased with what he'd done. With a smile on his face, he departed. There was a sudden rumble of thunder off in the distance and it began to rain lightly; that too seemed appropriate.

The cool water did nothing to revive him. He was too far gone, his vision dimmed and the life continued to pour out of him. Unable to stop the motion, his head lulled to the side.

He saw Rippner walking away, his head downcast, whistling a tune he couldn't place. It was the last thing he saw.

Two thoughts entered his fading consciousness; the question and the answer.

Why? Why protect a woman he loathed?

The answer; Rippner had plans of his own. Be they revenge or otherwise remained to be seen. But whatever form his retribution took, it would not happen tonight. It would happen in his time and would be of his design.

Why protect her? Because when it came to settling the score, Jackson Rippner despised competition.

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**Author's Note: Another one shot that popped into my head. I hope you all enjoy it.**

**Thanks to emptyvoices for her input and thanks in advance to everyone who took the time to read and/or review.**


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